


Apple Candy

by magicpiano



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, First Dates, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Multi, Nonbinary Grantaire, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicpiano/pseuds/magicpiano
Summary: Every week Bossuet and Joly go to the same restaurant and every week Musichetta is their waitress.
Relationships: Joly/Bossuet Laigle, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, minor Enjolras/Grantaire - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	Apple Candy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic 8 months ago but never got around to editing it. I feel like my writing style has changed some over the months tbh.
> 
> No warnings, except minor temporary injuries.

#  1

The first time she met them she spilled water on Bossuet’s shirt.

This was unusual because in the three years she had worked as a waitress Musichetta had never split anything, and definitely had never split anything on a customer. But on this one evening all of her years of practice and natural balance failed her.

“I am so sorry!” Musichetta said pulling napkins out of her apron and giving them to the now soaked bald man.

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed and waved off her apologies, but he did take the offered napkins.

“You don’t realize it because you just met us,” the dark-haired man with a cane that was sitting across from the bald man commented, “but this is exactly the kind of thing that always happens to him.”

Musichetta wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that but let the comment slide, it wasn’t worth worrying about.

“This is my fault,” Musichetta said. “Your dinner tonight is on the house, okay?”

“We couldn’t possibly,” the man with the cane said at the same time the bald man said, “it was my fault.”

“How could it possibly be your fault?” Musichetta asked. “ _ I _ spilt water on  _ you _ .”

“I have terrible luck,” The bald man shrugged.

The man with the cane was nodding in agreement, “he really does.”

“Maybe,” Musichetta said, her disbelief shining through. She never really believed in luck, she thought it much more likely that she was just not paying enough attention to where she was walking. “But I still need to make it up to you somehow. So free dinner, alright?”

“We wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on our behalf,” the dark hair man said.

She bit her lip in thought.

If her manager found out, she would surely be yelled at and the free meal was definitely going to come out of her salary. It would make things a bit tighter this week, but it was her own fault and she could accept her own mistakes with grace.

It would be very convenient for her if these two men could forget all about this, but she could hardly ask them to do that for her.

The dark-haired man apparently read her mind. “If we clean this up before your manager comes out here, then no one ever needs to know, right?”

Before she could even begin to answer the bald man had crawled onto the floor and begun soaking up the water with the napkins she had given him. The dark-haired man cleaned up the water on the table.

They were quick and efficient, clearly very used to each other's presence and movements. They were done before Musichetta even had a chance to try and help them.

She didn’t spill anything on anyone else the whole evening. When the two men asked for the check, she gave them a blank receipt. They were both far too nice and she would have felt guilty charging them.

When she came back to their table again, they were gone but there was money on the table enough to pay for their meal and a nice tip too. It was strange, most people jump at the opportunity for a free meal.

It was sweet of them, nonetheless.

#  2

Musichetta fully expected to never see those two men again. After all who comes back to a restaurant where you got water spilt on you and then you were forced to clean it up yourself? She was a waitress and even she probably wouldn’t go back to a restaurant like that.

But exactly a week later they were back. They both sat at the same table as they did last week, chatting to each other quietly.

When she came over to take their order, they both smiled up at her. For some reason, they seemed glad to have her as their server again.

“Good evening Musichetta,” the man with the cane said.

In truth it normally annoyed her when customers used her name, or addressed her as if they were close friends, but he had such a charming smile she couldn’t find it in herself to be upset.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Musichetta said, taking out her notebook to take their order.

“I’m Joly,” the man with the cane said.

“And I am Lesgles, but my friends call me Bossuet,” said the bald man.

“Why?” Musichetta couldn’t help but ask. It was a rather odd nickname

“It is a nickname and a long story,” Lesgles said then turned to look at the room around them, “I would tell you, but you seem busy.”

Unfortunately, he was right, tonight was busier than normal, some kind of event in town caused more people to come in than typical.

“Perhaps another time then?” she said dismissively. She didn’t expect to ever receive the story, people don’t usually talk much to their waitress.

But then he smiled at her earnestly and said, “I look forward to it.”

She saw them twice more that evening, once to drop off their food and another to give them their check. She was too busy to even check in to see how their meal was going. But even so as they were walking out the door, Joly stopped to wave at her.

“See you next week,” he said.

Musichetta found herself kind of hoping that she did.

#  3

“Perhaps tonight I can interest you in dessert?” Musichetta asked as she handed Joly and Bossuet a copy of their new menu. “We just hired a new pastry chef, and they are really great.”

“Oh cake!” Joly smiled as he skimmed the menu. “We never make any at home because I always burn them.”

“I also always burn them, typically in a spectacular fashion that usually ends with fire.” Bossuet shrugged as if he thought his oven catching fire was an everyday affair. Maybe for him it was. “But unlike Joly I actually know how to cook. I just have shit luck.”

“I’ll take the carrot cake,” Joly said.

“Hmm,” Bossuet hummed as he glanced down the menu. “I think I will take a slice of the apple pie.”

“Bossuet!” Joly gave a sudden scandalized gasp and pressed his right hand dramatically to his chest. “If you wanted to break up with me you should have just said so.”

Bossuet reached across the table and took Joly’s open hand. “It is not like that, I swear!”

Musichetta wasn’t sure what was happening. It seemed too exaggerated and silly to be a real argument, but she also had no idea what else this was supposed to be.

“You know we can no longer be together!” Joly took his hand out of Bossuet’s so that he could press it to his forehead and dramatically swoon like a Victorian lady.

“I forgot that you were a doctor babe!”

Musichetta recalled the old phrase, ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away,’ and the joke suddenly made sense. She tilted her head back as a full body laugh overtook her.

“You’re a doctor then?” Musichetta asked.

“I am,” Joly huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “A mistake clearly though. My boyfriend would rather have apple pie than me.”

“But Joly I still love you!” Bossuet pleaded. “I just also love apple pie. Must I choose between you?”

Bossuet gave Joly the cutest puppy dog eyes that made Musichetta’s heart feel warm and her knees weak. She almost wanted to go give Bossuet his pie for free. How did anyone ever say no to that face?

Joly’s lip curled slightly but he relented. “I suppose.”

Bossuet perked up and reached across the table to place a kiss on Joly’s cheek. “Joly you are the apple of my eye!” Bossuet turned back to Musichetta. “A slice of carrot cake and apple pie please.”

Musichetta smiled as she took back the menus. No one else ever made her laugh like her two most loyal customers did.

Musichetta tried not to be disappointed that they were both unavailable. She shouldn’t be surprised, the good ones were always taken or gay, or in her specific circumstance, both.

#  4

Musichetta notices the wet floor sign a half hour before Joly and Bossuet are due to arrive.

“Grantaire,” Musichetta called out, “can you cover for me for a few minutes? I am going to dry the floor.”

Grantaire, the restaurant’s new pastry chef, peaks their head out of the kitchen. “Dry it? Why? Just let it air dry. We have the wet floor sign up.”

“Joly-“ Musichetta cut herself off hesitating. There wasn’t a way to explain this that didn’t end with her heart on her sleeve. “Joly, a regular customer that comes every week, uses a cane. I don’t want him to slip.”

“Oh?” Grantaire teased, eyebrow raised. “Is this the same Joly that you mentioned before?”

Musichetta waved Grantaire off as she grabbed a towel. “He is taken.”

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire said, and they pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “There are always other fish in the sea, right? What about that other guy you mentioned, Bossuet?”

Musichetta gritted her teeth. “He is dating Joly.”

Grantaire winced. “You sure know how to pick them, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t your crush want to overthrow the government?” Musichetta asked skeptically.

Musichetta didn’t know much about Grantaire’s crush except that every week he ordered two dozen cookies for some club meeting he held and that he was, according to Grantaire, ‘a stunning marble God who was probably into arson.’

“I never said I had good taste,” Grantaire said, their hands raised in surrender. “I just said you also have bad taste.”

Musichetta sighed and got to work drying the floor.

When Joly and Bossuet arrived the floor was safe.

#  -1

They had a routine now. Every Tuesday night at 6:30 p.m. Joly and Bossuet would walk into the restaurant. Musichetta would already have a table set aside for them and their normal drink orders would be waiting for them.

It had been this way for months now, so Musichetta was hesitant to break tradition.

“Musichetta, we really need that table,” Grantaire said. “We are busy tonight.”

“I know but-“ Musichetta looked towards the door, as if Joly and Bossuet would walk in any moment. “They are going to be here soon.”

“It has been an hour and a half,” Grantaire said looking at their watch. “I don’t think they are coming. Maybe they just decided to not go out tonight?”

“Yeah maybe,” Musichetta admitted.

Her heart was sinking. She hoped they weren’t gone. She hoped that they would come back. It didn’t occur to her till right then, but she had no way to contact them. She had no way to know if they were okay, if something bad happened, if they were hurt, if they were ever coming back.

It was a stupid thing to think about, she was just their waitress after all. She didn’t deserve to know these details of their lives. They weren’t friends, she was no one of importance to them, just a passing acquaintance and she was fooling herself.

Even so she missed them.

#  5

The next week Musichetta cautiously prepared Joly and Bossuet’s usual table, but her worries were unfounded. They came exactly on time as they always did with big grins on their faces. The only thing that was out of the normal was that this week Bossuet was walking with a crutch and his leg was covered in a cast.

“Bossuet did you have another accident?” Musichetta asked, worry creeping into her voice. She now had a pretty good guess as to why they hadn’t been by last week.

“What gave it away?” Bossuet joked. He patted the crutch next to him. “On the Brightside, Joly and I match now!”

“He slipped down the stairs outside our apartment.”

“But it is nothing to worry about,” Bossuet said. He turned to Joly, winked and added in a suggestive tone. “I have a  _ very _ good doctor.”

“I am not your doctor,” Joly corrected, but a blush was dusting his cheeks anyways. “That would be unprofessional.”

“You might not be his doctor, but you will both need to be patient,” Musichetta said. “The kitchen is a bit slow tonight.”

“Good one!” Bossuet laughed. Musichetta has correctly guessed that he was a connoisseur of puns.

He was in a remarkably good mood considering his injury, but then Bossuet always seemed to be happy and ready to tell funny stories no matter what misfortune had befallen him that previous week.

Seeing them here, happy and safe, brought back the sense of longing she had last week. She didn’t want to lose touch with them, whatever she might feel was irrelevant, she only wished to remain their friend.

“I missed you last week,” Musichetta said without thinking. “I was really worried when you didn’t show up.”

Immediately after saying it she realized how weird a thing that was to say to someone you barely know. She opened her mouth, about to take her words back, but Bossuet spoke first.

“We missed you too,” Bossuet had an earnest smile on his face, and for a moment Musichetta let herself believe she was something more to them than just their waitress.

“We are sorry to have worried you,” Joly patted his pockets looking for something. When he found it, he pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled something on the back of it and handed it to her.

It was a flyer for some kind of club or volunteer organization and on the back was a phone number.

“That is my number, if you ever get worried again, you can call me,” Joly said.

“You can call him even if you are not worried,” Bossuet added. “As a matter of fact, you can call us anytime you like.”

Musichetta shoved the paper in her pocket and tried to hide her blush.

#  +1

When she left the kitchen, Musichetta saw Joly and Bossuet already sitting at their usual table. This wasn’t odd, they came here often enough to know which table was theirs and no one expected Joly to stand and wait for her to come and sit them when they could just make themselves comfortable. What was strange though was that their table had been set for three and an extra chair had been added.

“Sorry guys,” Musichetta said as she grabbed the chair to move it away. “Someone must have put this back in the wrong place.”

“That chair is exactly where it is supposed to be,” Grantaire said as they came out of the kitchen.

Musichetta was about to ask if they were expecting an extra companion tonight, when Grantaire gently but firmly pushed her into the chair.

“I cleared it with the Boss. You have the night off,” Grantaire winked at her.

Musichetta looked back and forth between Bossuet and Joly. “I think I am missing something here.”

“We, that is Bossuet and I, um,” Joly seemed unable to find the words and his face was quickly heating up.

Bossuet seemed to realize the issue Joly was having and took over. “We were hoping tonight could be a date, but if you are not interested, we completely understand and would love to just spend the evening with you as a friend.”

“A date?” Musichetta asked skeptically.

“Only if you want it to be,” Joly assured her.

Musichetta was more than a little bit shocked. She never even considered that they would be interested in a relationship like this, let alone a relationship with her. “It's just- you never implied that you were interested.”

“We didn’t want to flirt with you at work,” Bossuet explained.

Musichetta found herself smiling. She shouldn’t be surprised, that was exactly the kind of sweet thing they would do.

“I couldn’t ask for more considerate boyfriends, but next week you are more than welcome to flirt with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title came from the song Apple Candy by Ben Lee. It really strikes me as a Joly song because of the doctor/apple pun, but mostly because it is about a man in love with a man and woman. Poly loves songs make me so soft guys ;;;; 
> 
> It is on my Joly playlist ([listen here if you want!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5QwFKTFmQsZD4w7YtGhvxg)) I have some playlists for other Les Mis characters too.
> 
> This AU really needs a companion fic about baker! Grantaire who flirts with the cute guy who buys cookies every week.
> 
> You can contact me [here](https://lesbianjolllly.tumblr.com/) on my les mis sideblog. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Take care <3


End file.
